


Spaghetti and... a Squirrel?

by grimmlin



Series: Dating a Rock Star [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boyfriends, Castiel Can't Cook (Supernatural), Dating, Domestic Fluff, Famous Dean Winchester, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Professor Castiel (Supernatural), Rock Star Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21720343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmlin/pseuds/grimmlin
Summary: After their second date was interrupted by an unwanted photographer, Cas offered to cook dinner and stay in for their third date.Except, Cas is a terrible cook. He really should have thought this through a little better and now the bread is on fire and his sauce is trying to boil over and he still needs to take a shower...
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Dating a Rock Star [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557601
Comments: 15
Kudos: 300





	Spaghetti and... a Squirrel?

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third installment of Dating a Rock Star, I recommend you read their first two dates before diving into this one. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> I rated this mature only because of brief mentions of very tame sexual things. I wasn't sure whether to go with teen or mature, so I voted for caution.

Cas wakes up early on Saturday with a persistent ache below the belt.

Well, if he were wearing a belt it would be.

He flops onto his back with a groan and clenches his eyes, willing his _problem_ away with very little success.

He refuses to jerk off to the mental image of Dean in that leather jacket, smiling at him with a tender gaze while Cas can still feel the ghost of his lips against his own.

No.

He will not.

They have been on two dates and he does not care what his dick thinks.

Dean is off-limits.

He forces his thoughts toward the shopping list he knows he needs to make, resolutely not pressing his morning erection down with the heel of his palm like his body demands of him.

He invited Dean to dinner without thinking about how he hasn’t been grocery shopping in over a week and how his cupboards are nearly bare.

He lets out a sigh, buzzing his lips together as his eyes slide closed.

Coffee.

Coffee will fix all his problems.

He forces himself to roll out of bed, his feet landing on the soft carpet of his bedroom floor and he wiggles his toes against the plush fibers. Not for the first time, he’s glad he pushed the issue when his landlord tried to get out of replacing his carpet when he moved in.

He looks around his bedroom and decides that cleaning in here will be his second mission of the day.

His first is following the siren call coming from his espresso machine.

He yawns widely and stretches his arms high over his head as he ambles from the bedroom and down the hall before giving a contented hum when he lays eyes on his pride and joy.

He ordered the machine a year ago in his constant quest to stay caffeinated. Regular coffee wasn’t doing enough for him anymore and he decided that it was time to step up his game.

After much debate, he decided on an Illy machine, imported from Italy.

It’s nearly foolproof.

Like a Keurig but for espresso. And a hundred times better.

Now, every shot he pulls is perfect and his coffee consumption has increased ten-fold.

Right now, he doesn’t care.

He just wants his damn coffee before he tackles the mess that is his bedroom.

Once his first shot is down and his second one is in the works, he opens his refrigerator and glares.

A half-gallon of milk, a bag of wilted lettuce, and some cheese.

A chef he is not.

Next, he checks his cupboards, pleased to see he at least has some boxes of spaghetti and jars of sauce.

Except, does he really want to feed Dean out a jar?

He frowns and shakes his head.

How hard can making spaghetti sauce be?

Decision made, Cas sips at his second cup of espresso and pulls the notepad off the fridge to make a list.

An hour later he has fresh sheets on his bed, a load of laundry in the dryer and a second in the wash, his entire apartment dusted and vacuumed and a grocery list in hand.

Now, all he needs is pants.

He looks down his body with a frown. He needs to shower too, but should he do that now or after he gets dinner started?

His head tilts of its own accord as he weighs his options.

Later.

He’ll shower later.

Right now, he’s going to get dressed and do his shopping.

Now where the hell are his pants?

\---

Later, after nearly to endure armed combat to fight his way through the Saturday hordes at the supermarket in his side of town, Cas is cursing his decision to not go to Horrocks.

The little market isn’t so little anymore, but he can at least have his choice of free coffee or buy a glass of beer or wine to make contending with other shoppers a little less traumatic.

Cas nurses a new bruise on his elbow, courtesy of an oblivious woman ignoring her hellspawn children who were _throwing_ cans of tomatoes down the aisle.

He really should have gone to Horrocks.

At least the people there have an idea of what general human decency is.

He bypasses his espresso machine and cracks open a bottle of beer from the back of his fridge as he tucks a bottle of Prosecco in to chill.

He chews his lip as he pours his beer into a glass and reaches for his phone.

_Cas: Do you like wine?_

He shrugs and eyes the bottle of Chianti he bought with trepidation.

Maybe he should have bought more beer instead.

Will Bal mind if they dip into his Scotch?

His phone chimes before his mind can wander too far down that path.

_Dean: I’m more of a beer and whiskey guy, but I don’t mind bubbly wine sometimes._

Cas’ heart sinks.

_Cas: I should have asked before I bought two bottles of wine._

Crap.

He really should have asked.

The thought of going back to the store fills him with dread that his skin crawling and his stomach clenching with despair.

He can’t.

He won’t.

_Dean: For you, I’ll drink wine._ _😊_

Cas sighs and shakes his head as he opens his fridge and peers inside.

He has three bottles of amber left, not including the one he just poured. If Dean doesn’t like the wine, he can drink those.

Cas will happily drink the wine.

All the wine.

_Cas: I have a little beer._

_Dean: As long as you’re there, I’ll be happy._

Cas’ chest tightens as his heart melts just a little.

_Cas: Do you like pie?_

His stomach drops all over again as he stares at the frozen pie be bought that claims it just needs an hour in the oven to be home-made quality.

Given his abilities, he’s sure it will be better than _his_ home cooking, but Dean is probably used to so much better and ugh, he shouldn’t have asked Dean over.

This was a mistake.

_Dean: Pie!!! I think I love you_

Cas nearly swallows his tongue.

_Cas: Cool._

Cool?!? Ugh, he’s an idiot.

_Cas: I’m glad you like pie._

At least he has one thing going for him.

_Cas: I need to get dinner started and get in the shower. Is six still okay?_

He’ll be ready sooner than that, but he doesn’t want to rush Dean. They’ve seen each other the last two days, he doesn’t want to seem clingy.

_Dean: I will be happy to come over as soon as you’re ready. Just need your address._

Shit. His address.

The oven beeps as he types out his answer and he sets the phone aside to open the pie and read the directions one more time, just to be sure.

He carefully pricks the top and dutifully sets the whole thing on a cookie sheet before sliding it into the oven and setting the timer.

He finishes typing his address and sends it before chewing on his lip as he considers asking Dean to come over sooner.

_Cas: I need about an hour, but you can come over whenever you’re ready as long as you don’t mind watching me cook._

He’s going to get the sauce going now. At least that way he won’t look completely inept if Dean comes over early.

_Dean: You sure?_

_Cas: Positive._

He grins widely as he pulls out his cutting board and gathers the onion and garlic he needs to chop.

_Dean: Awesome_ _😊_

Cas smiles to himself as he follows the sauce recipe to the letter, not daring to deviate. Soon enough, the sauce is bubbling on the stovetop and he turns to the sink to wash his cutting board.

That’s when a smell catches his attention.

A foul, nose crinkling stench that has his hackles rising before he can identify the odor.

His brow furrows as he sniffs before his heart seizes in cold terror.

“Shit shit shit.” He spins with wide eyes, gaze landing on the loaf of fancy Italian bread that somehow got too close to the burner and is on _fire._

He grabs the dish towel and swings wildly, knocking the flaming loaf onto the floor where he smothers it with his towel and stands back with a strangled cry.

How did this happen!

He tries to take a deep breath, barely able to see through the cloud of smoke as he scoops the bread off the floor, towel and all and dumps the smoldering remains into the sink.

He stomps through his living room and throws open the sliding glass door to his balcony.

He steps out, taking a moment to lean against the railing and curse his stupidity.

Well, garlic bread is out.

He sucks in a deep breath of clean air before turning back to his hazy apartment and realizes his marinara is _boiling_ and splattering all over his stovetop.

“Shit,” he grumbles as he rushes inside to turn off the stove entirely.

Standing in the middle of his kitchen, he drops his chin to his chest and clenches his eyes shut while he focuses on his breathing.

He needs to shower.

He’ll deal with all this mess afterward.

Once he’s had time to clear his head.

He starts to reach for a paper towel to wipe up the red speckles of sauce dotting his stovetop but he holds his hands up in surrender instead.

Later.

If he starts cleaning now, he’s never going to get his shower.

He turns away and strips his shirt over his head on the way to the bathroom where he sets his water to near scalding, needing the punishing heat to center himself.

A few minutes later, scrubbed clean and breathing easier as he digs through his closet for fresh clothes. He hums in disapproval as he flips through one pair of slacks after another before he turns to his drawers with a grunt.

He wore his best-fitting jeans last night, so those are out, but he does have an old pair from college he can still squeeze into.

They’re soft against his skin, lighter in color and faded on top of that. They’re snug around his thighs but not so much that look too small.

He hums with approval as he checks himself out in the mirror before selecting a dark blue Henley that he seldom wears.

Now, he’s ready to confront the rest of his dinner making fiasco.

The apartment is chilly when he finally leaves his bedroom and he curses as he hurries to the still open patio door and slams it closed.

The smoke is cleared out at least.

He turns the burner under the sauce back on after giving the stove a quick wipe down and then fills a pot with water for the pasta.

The bread in the sink is unsalvageable and he scowls as he dumps it in the trash and ties the bag to take down to the dumpster.

This time, he remembers to turn the sauce down before he walks away.

Ten minutes later and the trash is taken care of, his kitchen is cleaned of everything non-essential and he’s pulled wine glasses out for the Prosecco.

He’s already gotten his daily disaster out of the way, so he’s confident this date is going to go smoothly.

It has to, right?

No one can have _that_ much bad luck.

A knock sounds on his door and Cas’ heart flips happily as he hurries to answer.

“Hello, Dean,” he says with a wide smile as he stands back to let the man inside.

Dean is wearing his usual jeans and jacket but he’s back to the sunglasses and ball cap shoved low over his eyes.

Those both disappear the moment Dean is inside and he sweeps Cas up in a tender kiss as soon as they’re cast aside and the worn guitar case Cas hadn’t even noticed is propped against the wall.

Cas hums and tries not to melt into a puddle as Dean’s hand settles into the dip of his spine and holds him close.

“Been wanting to do that since you got in your car last night,” Dean whispers as he pulls back with a smile playing on his lips.

Cas preens inside, nearly overwhelmed by how _easy_ this thing between them is. At the beginning of the week, he never imagined he would be this close to having a boyfriend but he’s sure that’s what he wants.

“Will you be my boyfriend?” Cas asks before he can stop himself and his cheeks instantly heat as Dean’s smile widens.

Dean reels him back in and presses their lips firmly together and pulls back with a pop. “Gladly.” He grins and Cas feels like he’s floating. “Dinner smells great,” he says, looking toward the kitchen with interest.

Cas nods dumbly, still reeling from officially having a _boyfriend_ but he eventually processes what Dean is saying. “It’s, uh, it’s nothing much. I already burned the garlic bread, I hope you don’t mind just spaghetti.” His cheeks heat furiously as he looks down at his feet.

Dean chuckles and shakes his head. “Not at all. You did warn me about your cooking,” he teases but softens the blow by pressing a chaste kiss to Cas’ cheek in the same motion that he laces their fingers together.

Cas nods and squeezes Dean’s hand. “I was going to open some Prosecco, would you like some? I have a few bottles of beer if you’d rather…”

“I like Prosecco.” Dean follows Cas’ lead as they walk toward the kitchen and he lets go of Cas’ hand so he can get the bottle out of the fridge.

He gets the bottle open with minimal fuss and then leads Dean to his couch after their glasses are filled. “It’s a little early to eat, I thought maybe we could just talk for a little while?”

“Sure.” Dean settles next to him, one leg tucked underneath so his body is facing Cas with his shoulder against the back of the sofa. In the soft light of the living room, Dean’s hair looks soft and dark, his freckles nearly invisible across his cheeks and bridge of his nose.

He looks even younger than Cas knows he is.

“How was your day?” Cas ventures, suddenly unsure where to start.

Dean chuckles softly, an amused smile curling at his lips as he takes a sip of his wine. “Pretty boring. Spent some time writing out a new song that’s been building in my head for a couple days.”

“Oh?” Cas asks, curiosity piqued.

Dean nods and unfolds himself to set his glass on the low coffee table next to the sofa and he pushes to his feet. “Yeah. Got the first few chords worked out, wanna hear?” Dean’s already walking toward his guitar case and Cas is not about to deny the chance to hear Dean sing.

“Of course, Dean,” Cas says, shifting to make himself more comfortable as Dean retakes his seat.

Dean grins as he strums the chords, the full sound filling the room beautifully. Dean is perched on the edge of the sofa, guitar across his lap as he turns his head toward Cas and hums as he adjusts the pitch.

Cas’ heart clenches, making his chest feel tight and his stomach swoops when the dulcet sounds form into a lopsided melody that dances as Dean’s fingers move across the strings.

His breath all but stalls when Dean starts to sing.

_I don't really know the way_  
_Played out stranger than it seemed_  
_But what went down came true_  
_Like an all day dream_

Cas can barely swallow, Dean’s voice is beautiful, all soft and sweet with nothing more than the guitar to back him up. Time may as well have stopped

_I don't want to be the one to say it's wrong_  
_When the heavens open and a new day comes along_  
_I know I would rather be together alone_  
_In a big top circle and a world we can call our own..._

Dean trails off but he continues to strum the same not quite complete melody and he nods with a pinched frown as he trails off.

“That’s all I got so far,” Dean says with a shrug as he sets the guitar aside.

“I love it,” Cas says firmly, his heart still squirming happily.

Dean flushes and shakes his head with a huff of a laugh. “You’re just saying that.”

Cas tilts his head and his brows furrow. “I mean it.”

Dean nods and abuses his plush bottom lip between his teeth. “It’s just pieces right now, but it’s about you, I think. At least, you’re the inspiration.” He shrugs like he hasn’t just turned Cas into a sentimental puddle of goo.

Cas swallows hard, words failing him so completely that he’s left no other choice but to lean forward and pull Dean into a deeper kiss than they have yet to share. His fingers find their way into the short hairs at that back of Dean’s head to hold him close and they both moan as his tongue brushes the outside of Dean’s bottom lip.

Dean fists his hands in the front of Cas’ shirt before they drift around his shoulders, wrapping him in an embrace as their mouths move together seamlessly.

Finally, Dean pulls back, his lips kiss swollen and shining as he grins while Cas tries to catch his breath. “Damn, Cas.” Dean’s smile turns lazy and his eyes nearly sparkle with delight. “If I had known it only took a little song to get you to kiss me like that…” He trails off as Cas’ cheeks heat and he shakes his head.

“No one has ever sung for me before,” Cas says, pretending for a moment that their situation is unreal, to begin with.

Dean’s smile brightens as his gaze softens. “Well, get used to it. Singing is kinda what I do.”

Cas presses his lips together firmly to try to hide his smile. “Well, in that case, you’ll need to come up with something better to sweep me off my feet.”

Dean barks a laugh and swats at Cas’ shoulder playfully. “I see how it is.” He laughs and shakes his head once before his smile dims and he reaches out to cup Cas’ chin and draw him closer, thumb stroking lightly over the sharp cut of Cas’ stubbled cheek.

Their kiss is soft, languid and patient enough to leave Cas breathless when he pulls back just enough to meet Dean’s gaze. “What was that for?” He can’t help the half-smile that refuses to dim.

Suddenly, all the stress of earlier and his utter failure in the kitchen was worth it to have Dean this relaxed and unguarded.

Staying in was a brilliant idea.

“Because I can,” Dean says simply as he reaches for his guitar. “Now, I believe I owe you a song for cheating at laser tag.”

Cas narrows his eyes and glares. “I did not cheat.” He folds his arms over his chest and tries not to smile. “You did not say I had to win _alone._ ”

Dean shakes his head and purses his lips to hide his smile. “Yeah, yeah. Technicalities.” His fingers start to strum and tune that quickly becomes familiar as he digs into the melody.

Cas feels a smile playing at his lips as he leans back and makes himself comfortable. His eyes want to slide closed so his ears can savor the tender acoustic version of a song he knows all too well, but he can’t bring himself to let Dean out of his sight.

He intends to remember this moment for the rest of his life.

_He's got a smile it seems to me  
Reminds me of childhood memories  
Where everything  
Was as fresh as the bright blue sky  
Now and then when I see his face  
He takes me away to that special place  
And if I'd stare too long  
I'd probably break down and cry_

_Oh, oh, oh  
Sweet child o' mine  
Oh, oh, oh, oh  
Sweet man of mine_

Dean looks to him with the softest smile and Cas does his best not to whimper with how much his soul aches with overwhelming affection for this man he barely knows.

They’ve known each other for three days.

It’s too soon to be thinking of even thinking about the L word and he has to blink the idea away before he lets himself feels something he shouldn’t.

_He's got eyes of the bluest skies  
As if they thought of rain  
I hate to look into those eyes  
And see an ounce of pain  
His hair reminds me of a warm safe place  
Where as a child I'd hide  
And pray for the thunder  
And the rain  
To quietly pass me by_

_Oh, oh, oh  
Sweet child o' mine  
Oh, oh, oh, oh  
Sweet man of mine_

_Oh, oh, oh, oh  
Sweet child o' mine  
Oh, oh, oh, oh  
Sweet man of mine_

Cas feels his eyes start to water, Dean’s voice is so deep and soulful yet somehow different than Cas has heard from him over the radio. The emotion and tenderness are so easy to see with the way his eyes pinch closed as he croons the closing of the song.

“Dean,” Cas croaks, only a little ashamed at the way his voice cracks when Dean flattens his palm over the strings to silence the guitar.

Dean gives him a lazy smile. “I thought of that song the moment I saw your picture, I wanted to meet you so bad.” He shakes his head slightly before meeting Cas’ gaze again. “You like it?” He looks down, cheeks reddening as he hugs his guitar.

“That’s probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me,” Cas says honestly as he reaches out a hand to rest on Dean’s knee.

Dean sucks in a sharp breath as his gaze snaps to Cas. “That’s a damn shame.”

Cas huffs an almost bitter laugh as he shrugs. “Not everyone is like you.”

“Damn right.” Dean leans closer and presses a quick kiss to Cas’ cheek before he reaches for his wine glass.

“Uh, Cas?” Dean pulls his glass back and tilts his head, listening. “What’s that sound?”

Cas’ brow furrows as he listens to the dull scratching sound coming from behind the couch. “I…Dean!” Cas cries and clutches Dean’s arm as something that most certainly should NOT be in his living room darts out from behind the couch and leaps onto his television, bushy tail flicking angrily as it glares at Dean’s guitar.

“Cas?” Dean questions, eyes wide as he stares at the chattering squirrel.

“It…it must have gotten in when I left the door open.” Cas slowly pushes to his feet and edges toward the patio door as his heart hammers wildly. “There’s a broom in the closet by the kitchen.” He points subtly without taking his eyes off the squirrel that should _not_ be in his apartment.

How is this his life?

Dean slowly sets his guitar aside and inches toward the closet as Cas slides open the door and moves toward the couch, leaving a clear path for the squirrel to escape.

It flicks its tail and continues to chatter, not moving an inch.

“Come on little guy, back outside,” Cas tries to say gently as he gestures toward the door.

Dean returns with the broom held at the ready like a sword and Cas rolls his eyes.

“It’s not going to attack you, Dean,” he says tiredly.

Dean shakes his head. “You don’t know that.” He steps forward, business end of the broom pointed at the offending rodent.

Cas swallows hard and steps to Dean’s side to present a united front.

The squirrel flicks its tail once. Twice. Eyeing them angrily with its tiny little eyes before deigning them a non-threat and sitting back on its haunches.

It has the audacity to start _grooming_ itself and Cas barely holds back his astounded gasp.

“Why you little shit…get out!” Cas gripes, voice rising as he points at the open door.

The squirrel jumps in surprise and darts off the TV stand and scurries toward the couch as Dean jabs with his broom and gives chase.

The squirrel zigs and Dean zags with a mighty battle cry while Cas tries to shoo the creature toward the door.

The squirrel darts outside, chattering angrily all the while and Cas slams the door with a frustrated sigh and brings his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose as he tilts his chin skyward.

Dean stares for a moment, eyes wide and broom still clutched in his hands before he breaks. Loud guffaws fill the room and Cas can’t help but join in when Dean doubles over at the waist with laughter.

“Oh my god,” Dean wheezes as he wipes tears from his eyes. His cheeks are red from laughing and his forehead drops against Cas’ shoulder as they both shake with laughter.

Cas nearly sobs as his shoulders shake. “Neighbors keep feeding the damn things. I should have known better than to leave the door…” He trails off as a fresh giggle pushes itself from his stomach and he shakes head as Dean wraps his arms tight around his middle.

“That was awesome,” Dean says as they sway together, barely controlling their persistent laughter.

Cas shakes his head and buries his nose in the crook of Dean’s neck. “I don’t think we share the same definition of awesome.” His cheeks are flaming hot now that the adrenaline of the situation is wearing off and he wants to find a deep cave to hide in where no one can find him for at least a million years.

By then, the dust that remains might not be so embarrassed.

Dean rubs soothing circles on his back even as he continues to chuckle into Cas’ hair.

Cas is not too embarrassed to cling.

Dean smells clean and fresh where Cas presses his nose against his skin, like soap and aftershave combined with a faint whiff of cedar.

Dean pulls him closer and starts to sway to a silent melody as a hand slides lower to rest over the dip of Cas’ spine, guiding him as he laces their fingers together.

Dean’s melody takes shape, a low hum that Cas vaguely recognizes from the radio and he’s certain it’s one of Dean’s as they sway back and forth.

“I’m a terrible dancer,” Cas whispers as he pulls back a few inches to meet Dean’s gaze.

Dean shrugs as the hand on Cas’ back slides around to rest on his hip. “Feels like you’re doin alright,” Dean interrupts his humming to say and he squeezes Cas’ hip before dragging him into another embrace. “I don’t think I could ever get sick of feeling you like this. It’s crazy, isn’t it? How easy this feels?” He mutters into Cas’ hair.

Cas nods into Dean’s shoulder. “I was thinking the same thing earlier. We barely know each other, and yet…” He shrugs, unable to put the feeling building in his stomach into words.

“I feel like I’ve known you for years.” Dean finishes Cas’ sentiment a breath later.

Cas hums his agreement, content to hold and be held for another minute before pulling away and clearing his throat. “I should probably get the water boiling.”

Dean sucks in a breath and steps back with a nod. “Yeah, good idea.”

Cas snags his wine off the coffee table, half amazed neither glass ended up on the floor during the squirrel chase and he shakes his head with a huff before he downs the rest of his glass. “I’m going to pour another, want some?”

Dean nods and follows him into the kitchen where the pie is still cooling on the counter and the pot of water is waiting to be turned on. “Smells great,” Dean says as he leans over the pie, eyes sliding closed as he inhales.

At least Cas didn’t manage to burn that. The directions on the box served him well.

Dean pours their wine, emptying the bottle, as Cas checks the sauce and clicks the burner off with a nod.

He thanks his lucky stars, maybe even god, that the marinara isn’t destroyed since he forgot (again) to turn the burner off earlier.

He’s a little bit proud of himself.

He pulls the package of fresh pasta out of the fridge and dumps a handful of kosher salt into the water while Dean leans against the counter to watch. “It’s nothing much, but I’d probably burn the place down if I tried to do more.” He shrugs and leans against the counter opposite of Dean, their feet nearly touching in the narrow space.

Dean licks his lips and nods. “I’m not picky. Sometime, you’ll have to let me cook for you though. I made a great burger.”

Cas feels a slow grin spreading over his lips. “Yeah?”

Dean nods and takes a sip of his prosecco. “Oh yeah. Growing up, I had to learn for Sammy’s sake. Turns out, I really enjoy cooking.”

Cas tilts his head, vaguely remember reading something about Dean having a less than traditional childhood but he can’t remember.

“You don’t know, do you?” Dean asks as he bites at his lip. His tone holds more amusement than judgment, Cas might almost say he looks pleased.

Cas shrugs. “I told you, I’m not a fan.”

Dean’s smile grows and Cas knows he said the right thing. “Well, long story short, mom died when I was four and Sammy was a baby. Dad dragged us all over the country looking for work. He’d leave us alone for weeks on end once I got a little older and take-out gets expensive.”

Cas nods his agreement. “That sounds…difficult.” He does not use the word he would prefer, but he figures Dean doesn’t want his pity.

Dean shrugs and takes a drink. “Turned out alright.”

Cas nods and pushes off the counter and turns around to check the water. “Yes, I think it did.”

“What about you? What was your childhood like?” Dean asks, stepping across the space to stand at Cas’ side.

Cas shrugs. “My family was very religious. I spent much of my childhood at church, learning to hate everyone who wasn’t exactly like us but when I realized I was gay…that changed quite a lot.”

Dean huffs. “I bet they didn’t take that well, then.”

Cas shrugs. “I never told them. I walked away the day I turned eighteen and never looked back.”

Dean stares, lips parted and eyes disbelieving.

“They found out eventually, of course. My father tracked me down at college my junior year. When I opened the door with stubble burn all over my face and my boyfriend standing behind me...” He shrugs, trying not to die a little inside at the memory of his stomach dropped and he almost puked all over his father’s shiny dress shoes. “He disowned me then, as if I hadn’t already removed myself from the family.”

“Cas,” Dean whispers, voice frail and near breaking.

Cas flinches and smiles as he shakes his head. “That was a decade ago, Dean. It is for the best.”

Dean nods and chews his lip, clearly wanting to argue but thankfully holding his tongue. “You said you still talk to one of your brothers though?”

Cas smiles at that. “Gabriel. He’s four years older but didn’t leave until father disowned me. He’s a menace and hell-bent on playing the protective older brother role.” Cas pauses to open the spaghetti package. “He’s going to hate you. Fair warning.”

Dean nods and takes another sip of his wine. “If he’s just looking out for you, I can live with that.”

“Just so you’re prepared.” Cas nods, feeling the little bit of bubbly starting to go to his head. The water is at a low simmer and he knows from being told that he should wait to put the pasta in until the water is vigorously boiling, although he’ll never understand why that is somehow called a rolling boil but okay, he’ll go with it.

“Noted. So, why choose to study religion? I would think your childhood would have left a bitter taste in your mouth?” Dean asks, his expression far too earnest for where Cas’ mind immediately goes.

He tries not to snort with stifled laughter like a fourteen-year-old, but he does manage to nod as he sips at his wine. “The human psyche and the mythology we’re able to concoct is fascinating. And not just the Christian religion, all religions have some fascinating beliefs that sound ridiculous by today’s standards.”

Dean nods and swallows hard. “Uh-huh,” he mutters, tilting his head curiously enough for Cas to continue as he dumps the pasta into the now boiling water.

“Did you know that throughout history, Jesus’ foreskin has been a sought-after relic. At one time, there were more than eighteen plausible claims of the holy prepuce being in a church’s possession.”

“Eighteen?” Dean looks horrified. “For a _foreskin?”_

Cas nods. “Yes, Charlemagne gifted one to Pope Leo the third in the year 800.”

Dean’s brow furrows and his lips purse. “That sounds horrible.”

Cas nods again. “Oh yes, quite. Even if Jesus was real, and he was circumcised, there would have been no reason for anyone to have _kept_ it. And yet…”

“That’s disgusting.” Dean swallows hard and shakes his head.

Cas nods vigorously a smiles widely. “Yes. It was supposedly stolen in 1983 and hasn’t been heard of since.”

Dean’s brow furrows and drains the rest of his wine. “That’s probably for the best.”

Cas huffs a laugh. “Yes, I agree. Like I said, religious belief is fascinating.”

Dean nods but his wide eyes still hold mild horror. “I see that. I’ll stick with music though.”

Cas huffs a laugh as he stirs the pasta. “You are quite skilled.”

Dean shakes his head fondly. “Thought you said you weren’t a fan?”

Cas shrugs. “I’m not. But only a fool would claim you aren’t talented.”

Dean steps forward and wraps his arms around Cas’ waist, pressing himself against Cas’ back. “I’ll convert you yet.”

Cas hums and stirs the pot. “I’m quickly becoming a fan of _you.”_

Dean huffs against the nape of Castiel’s neck and presses light kiss at the edge of his hairline. “I’ll take that as progress.”

“Good,” Cas says, leaning back into Dean’s space. “Now move. I’ve got to drain the spaghetti.”

Dean backs off, hands held up in surrender as Cas grabs the potholders.

“In the sauce or underneath?” Cas asks as he dumps the spaghetti into the waiting strainer. Dean merely shrugs and claims it doesn’t matter so Cas decides to mix everything together.

“No salad?” Dean finally decides to question as Cas is dishing out the pasta into the oversized bowls he selected and his stomach drops.

Cas shrinks on himself, cursing his oversight as he stares at the heaping bowls of spaghetti. “No?” He forgot. He completely forgot any sort of meat and any sort of vegetable.

He truly is a failure at meal planning.

“You’re amazing,” Dean says with a wide smile. “Sam is always on about healthy eating and _salad_ like it’s actually food.” He rolls his eyes fondly as he reaches for a bowl and turns toward the table.

“I like salad,” Cas says lamely as he collects his bowl and follows Dean after grabbing silverware for them both.

Dean shrugs and settles into the spot next to the head of the table and looks innocently up at Cas. “I might consider eating lettuce for you, but I’d rather not test that theory.”

“Noted,” Cas says dryly as he settles into his chair and hands Dean some silverware. “Oh, I forgot the cheese!” Cas jumps up and hurries to collect the forgotten ingredient while Dean patiently waits.

“So, what do you want to do after dinner?” Dean asks as Cas passes him the bowl of shredded parmesan.

Cas shrugs and unfolds a napkin over his lap. “I thought we could either find a movie to watch or just talk. I don’t have much of a plan.”

Dean smirks as he collects his fork. “What, no Netflix and chill?”

Cas tilts his head and narrows his eyes at Dean’s teasing tone. He pinches a frown as he tries to pick apart what Dean is alluding to. He’s heard that phrase coming from his students but he never bothered to ask…

Dean chuckles and shakes his head with a widening smile. “You’re adorable.”

Cas huffs and his brow furrows. “I don’t understand what that means, Netflix and chill?” His stomach drops with shame for asking, but he refuses to let his pride get in the way.

Dean is going to have to learn to accept that pop culture is generally beyond his grasp. He doesn’t understand what about the words Netflix and chill would warrant a teasing smirk.

“This is really good by the way.” Dean’s cheeks redden and his spaghetti is suddenly very interesting as he stabs at some noodles with his fork.

Cas’ eyes narrow further. “Don’t change the subject.”

“It’s uh, a, a codeword for sex.” Dean swallows hard around his mouthful and pointedly does not meet Cas’ eyes.

Cas nearly chokes as he shakes his head vigorously. “That thought had not crossed my mind.”

Dean’s smirk returns and he eyes Cas with amusement. “Now that’s a shame,” he teases and Cas’ cheeks flush crimson before Dean finally takes pity on him. “Don’t worry, Cas. I may be clingy, but I don’t put out until at least the fourth date.”

Cas nods dumbly and swallows hard, sudden thoughts of Dean’s bare skin filling his imagination.

His mouth goes dry and he tries to shove the thoughts from his head but they cling stubbornly and he swears his face might just burst into flame when his dick starts to take interest. No.

No.

No.

No.

He will not sit here and eat dinner with an awkward boner just because Dean teased him a little.

“What do you suggest we do, then?” Cas tries to change the subject before he shoves a giant forkful of spaghetti into his mouth to keep from saying something stupid.

Dean leans forward and looks at him expectantly. “Well, Charlie was outraged that you apparently have never seen Star Wars.”

Cas nods dumbly and swallows. “She did seem perturbed.”

Dean shrugs and settles back into his chair. “I thought maybe we could fix that.”

Cas tilts his head as warmth creeps into his chest. “But I don’t have a copy?”

Dean laughs and shakes his head. “It’s like, ten movies at this point, but I brought the original three, Episodes four, five, and six.”

Cas’ brow furrows. “What?” Why would the first three be labeled at four, five, and six?

“They made prequels after the ones that were released in the seventies. One, two, and three are better saved for after you’ve been converted. They’re kind of terrible.” Dean explains as he continues to eat.

“You’re not selling this very well…” Cas looks on with amusement.

Dean rolls his eyes and settles back in his chair, bowl now empty. “Harrison Ford is in the ones I brought. When he was young.”

“Oh,” Cas says, heart stuttering. “You should have led with that.”

Dean chuckles and shakes his head. “Thought so.”

“Would you like more?” Cas asks, gesturing at their empty bowls and Dean shakes his head.

“Nah, gotta save room for pie.” Dean leans back and pats his belly. “Let me help you clean up.”

Cas decides to let him if only to speed along the process and soon enough, they've settled on the couch with a few inches between them as the opening credits roll for A New Hope.

By the end of the first movie, the pie is half gone and they’re pressed together from shoulder to hip.

By the end of the second, Cas is trying not to yawn and he’s caught Dean yawning more than once even with his arm draped over Cas’ shoulders.

“It’s getting late,” Cas observes, glancing at the clock on his phone. It’s nearing midnight.

Dean nods with a frown that is interrupted by a gigantic yawn. He stretches his arms over his head and his spine pops with the stretch. “I should probably get going, it’s a bit of a drive back to my hotel and I don’t want to keep you up.” He looks sleepily at Cas with a halfcocked smile.

Cas’ heart stutters and his cheeks preemptively flush when a loaded idea crosses his mind but Dean is already pushing to his feet and looking out the glass patio door toward the parking lot.

Cas follows him and hooks his chin over Dean’s shoulder to see whatever Dean is looking at. “You could stay,” Cas mutters before he can stop himself. “Just to sleep, I mean. I don’t want you driving if you’re half asleep.” He steps back quickly and shakes his head at his boldness.

He’s about to dismiss his idea out of hand until he notices the sleepy and pleased smile being directed at him.

“Yeah?” Dean asks as he wraps his arms around Cas’ middle and pulls him in. “I’m a cuddler, just so you know.”

Cas rolls his eyes fondly and returns Dean’s hug. “I never would have guessed.”

Dean chuckles into his hair. “Brat.”

Cas peels himself away and reaches for the TV remote, turning the console off before leading Dean toward his bathroom. “Come on, I’ve got an extra toothbrush from the dentist and I’m sure I have clean sleep clothes that will fit you.”

Ten minutes later and Cas’ heart is racing as they climb into bed, side by side.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean mutters sleepily and scoots closer with a hopeful look in his eye.

“Come here,” Cas whispers as he holds his arm up for Dean to snuggle in closer.

“Night, Cas,” Dean mutters sleepily, his head pillowed on Cas’ shoulder.

“Goodnight, Dean,” Cas whispers back and presses a chaste kiss into Dean’s hair.

His heart calms as they lay together, Dean warm and soft in his arms, and everything feels right with the world.

Maybe this is too easy, maybe they shouldn’t fit so well so soon, but Castiel is not about to ask questions and risk ruining whatever this is quickly becoming between them.

He’s going to see this through, even if that means diving into Dean’s circus of a public life.

This right here? This is worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any interested in getting sneak peeks of what I'm up to, I'm @grimmlin_fic on the bird app.


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